


Operation: Covert Spaghetti

by hastyquickbeam



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Diabetes, F/M, Fluff, Food, Type 1 Diabetes, crohn's disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hastyquickbeam/pseuds/hastyquickbeam
Summary: Lance isn’t supposed to eat pasta, but Pidge and Hunk aren’t going to let that stop him.





	Operation: Covert Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sugarlips](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172819) by [Kara_lovelymusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_lovelymusic/pseuds/Kara_lovelymusic), [rov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rov/pseuds/rov). 



> Pidge, Hunk, and Lance are teenagers in a children’s hospital. Pidge has cystic fibrosis and arthritis. Hunk has Crohn's disease and is recovering from j-pouch surgery. Lance has type 1 diabetes but is currently admitted for a broken right hand.
> 
> Big Thank You to Kara_lovelymusic and Soop for coming up with this AU!

“Why can’t I eat pasta?” Lance complained for the third time. Hunk didn’t say anything but Pidge could read the look on his face like a magazine. _You’re really gonna complain about food in front of me?_ Hunk loved food, but couldn’t eat a bite while he recovered from his surgery. He would have given his left arm to be able to eat the chicken that Lance was unenthusiastically poking at with his fork.  
  
“Dry chicken, too many vegetables, and a sad piece of bread,” he continued. Hunk’s mouth began to water at the description of food; He might not be able to eat food, but his mouth didn’t know that.  
  
“Why do they do this to me?” Lance asked no one in particular.  
  
“Um, so you don’t die of blood sugar?” said Pidge.  
  
“I don’t care. When I get out of here, I’m going to stuff my face with as much pasta as I can take.”  
  
“But you do actually care, right?” said Hunk, concerned.  
  
“Yeah, I still care. But you know, sometimes I wish I didn’t.” He looked down at his plate and poked at the chicken again. “It would be so much simpler if I could just eat what I wanted,” He added petulantly.  
  
“I wish we could do something about it,” said Pidge, but she thought _I wish you would stop complaining about this._ Hunk made a secretive smile, and this time Pidge couldn’t read his face.  
  
Some time later, Pidge and Hunk were playing battleship in the rec room. Lance was off in his room, probably complaining about the food to the nurses. He had been spending a lot of time in his room recently.  
  
“Maybe we can do something about it,” mused Hunk.  
  
“Do something about what?” asked Pidge, looking up from the strategy she had been carefully thinking through.  
  
“Oh sorry, I mean maybe we can do something about Lance wanting pasta.”  
  
“How? By snapping our fingers and making him forget that pasta exists.”  
  
“No,” said Hunk patiently, “By making pasta for him.”  
  
“But he can’t eat pasta.”  
  
“He can eat pasta. They just don’t want him to. But that doesn’t need to stop us.”  
  
“Are you sure?” she asked skeptically, “and how will you cook? Where will you get the ingredients?”  
  
“You know there’s a kitchenette in the rec room. And I’ll have my parents bring the ingredients. I can hide them in my bag until we get a chance to cook.”  
  
Pidge smiled. Hunk was such a good friend. And she was glad that Hunk wanted them to cook together, partly because this bout of rule breaking sounded exciting, but mainly because these days she wanted to spend as much time with Hunk as possible.  
  
It took five days, but Hunk finally got the ingredients. His parents had been confused when he asked them to bring food.  
  
“But honey, you can’t eat food. What would you want with these ingredients.”  
  
“I want to make food for my friends.” He didn’t mention that it was forbidden food.  
  
“Are you sure you want to make food you can’t eat? Won’t that be hard?”  
  
It would be, unbearably. “Yes mom, these are my friends and I want to make food for them.”  
  
“Ok honey, We’ll get you the ingredients.”  
  
She had brought him pasta, a jar of sauce, pre-made meatballs, salt, pepper, parmesan cheese, and some herbs. Hunk would have preferred to make the sauce and meatballs himself, but he needed all the ingredients to be shelf stable so he could stash them in his bag until he got his chance to carry out their plan.  
  
Pidge and Hunk had come up with a name for their project. “Operation: Covert Spaghetti.” The code name was “Lance is Hungry.” Everything was ready. All they needed to do was wait for the window of opportunity.  
  
It came sooner than they expected. That Tuesday evening, the activity was group board games in the rec room. It ended at 8 o'clock. As everyone filed out of the rec room, Hunk and Pidge held back. “I think Lance is hungry,” said Hunk. Pidge smiled at him. “See you in five minutes.”  
  
Five minutes later they were alone in the rec room. Hunk had his ingredients. Pidge had a pot. Hunk had asked her where she had gotten it, but all she would say was “I have my ways.”  
  
Hunk turned on the hot plate, and started the water boiling. It was a slow burner, so Hunk guessed it would take at least 20 minutes to boil the water. They stood together in silence. At first it was a little awkward, but by the time the water had started to bubble they had fallen into easy conversation. Hunk told Pidge about the best meals he had cooked for his family. The best meals Pidge’s family had eaten were take out meals, but she talked about them all the same.  
  
Before they knew it, the water was boiling. “Oh,” said Hunk “I forgot to salt the water. Hand me the salt?  
  
Pidge handed the salt over to Hunk, and their hands brushed gently. Pidge blushed and quickly turned away, hoping that Hunk hadn’t noticed.”  
  
As it happened, Hunk hadn’t noticed. He was blissfully lost in cooking. He put in the noodles, microwaved the sauce and meatballs, and pulled out the cooked noodles piece by piece since he didn’t have a strainer. During this time Pidge and Hunk were silent, but it was a comfortable silence.  
  
Hunk added the herbs and shook out the parmesan cheese. Normally he would test the taste at this point but since he couldn’t eat, he just smelled. He could tell it wasn’t as good as something he would have made at home, but he could also tell that it would be very tasty indeed. He smiled at Pidge. “It’s ready.”  
  
It was time for phase two. Pidge snuck into the hallway, hoping that Lance would be in his room. When she got there, he was sitting reclined on his hospital bed and seemed to be moping. “Oh hi, Pidge,” he said with a forced smile. But Pidge just said “stay here!” and rushed back out into the hallway. Lance stared at the door, wondering what had just happened.  
  
He didn’t have to wonder long. In almost no time, Pidge was back.  
  
“Are you hungry.” She asked.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said, are you hungry?”  
  
“Well, now that you ask, I guess I am hungry. But not enough to want anything in this hospital.”  
  
“Well today is your lucky day.” Pidge’s smile was large now.  
  
“Surprise!” said Hunk as he burst through the door with the spaghetti in hand.  
  
Lance stared at him, slack-jawed. There was silence for an uncomfortable moment. Then Lance said, “I can’t eat pasta,” and he was frowning. They stood there a bit longer, in a very uncomfortable silence.  
  
Then Lance started laughing, and moments later they were all laughing. Hunk stepped forward and handed the pasta to Lance. Lance delicately balanced the plate on his lap, using the cast on his right hand to hold it in place. “Dinner in bed. You guys are amazing!”  
  
“Come on, eat it quickly before someone notices,” said Pidge.  
  
Lance didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted the fork with his left hand; he was getting pretty good at this by now. He ate quickly and enthusiastically, if not gracefully and didn’t say another word until he had finished it all. Hunk and Pidge were beaming at him the whole time.  
  
“That was so good!” said Lance.  
  
“We hoped you would like it,” said Hunk.  
  
Lance looked at them, smiling some more. “Oh Shit!” he said suddenly. “I forgot to give insulin for that.” Lance took out his insulin pump. “How many carbs?”  
  
“Carbs?” said Hunk, looking nervous.  
  
“Yeah, how many carbohydrates? The nurses always tell me how many carbohydrates are in the meals so I know how much insulin to give.”  
  
“I’m sorry man, I don’t know.”  
  
“What am I gonna do?” said Lance, starting to panic.  
  
“I’m sure we can guess,” said Pidge. “How much is usually in a meal?”  
  
“The hospital meals usually have 30 carbs.”  
  
“Well, pasta has a lot of carbs, and there’s a lot of pasta here, so let’s say twice that much, so 60 carbs,” said Pidge thoughtfully.  
  
“How did you do that?” asked Lance.  
  
“I don’t know. I just thought about it and made a guess.”  
  
“Well I trust you,” said Lance. “I’ll enter 60 carbs.” Lance pressed the buttons on his pump, and it made the appropriate beeps.  
  
“Let me take that,” said Hunk, taking the plate.  
  
“You guys are such good friends,” said Lance.  
  
"You really are a good friend Hunk,” said Pidge, and she squeezed his hand. Hunk didn’t say anything, but his hand felt warm, and he was happier that he had been all week.


End file.
